


No Pain, No Gain

by Frayach



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Birthday Presents, Fluff, M/M, Reunions, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 14:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3695486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frayach/pseuds/Frayach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After having almost lost Justin forever, Brian decides not to f-up any more birthdays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Pain, No Gain

**Author's Note:**

> I just got back from having my ass kicked by a tiny, sadistic Chinese lady. Word of advice: A "deep tissue massage" is NOT as relaxing an experience as it sounds. The rewards are worth it, though. I haven't felt this relaxed in a long time.
> 
> Warning: Fluff Fluff Fluffity Fluff Fluff

“Ow ow ow OW! Goddamn it, Brian, I said OW!!!”

“I know you did, and I’m taking it as a compliment.”

“You should be taking it as a very _un_ subtle command to stop!”

“But it’s your birthday. I thought you’d appreciate it if I did something for your birthday other than hire you a hot, horny hustler.”

“I’ll take the hustler, please!”

“But you didn’t like the hustler. That was one of the reasons you dumped me for the fiddler.”

“I got over it . . . Ow, Brian! I thought your card said that you’d taken a class on massage, not medieval torture.”

“You’ll note that you’re on a massage table, not a rack. The loft isn’t the Tower of London. I’m not trying to get you to confess to a traitorous plot.”

“I’ll confess to anything if you’ll just . . . OW! Stop! What was the class called? Sadism 101?”

“The class was called ‘deep tissue massage,’ and that’s what I’m doing. I’m giving you a therapeutic deep tissue massage.”

“Did you keep the receipt? OW! Can I exchange you for someone who took the relaxing Swedish massage class?”

“Nope. Besides, why do you want a relaxing massage? All they do is put you to sleep. A deep tissue massage actually does something.”

“Cripple you for life?”

“No, it breaks down knotted muscle tissue so it can repair itself.”

“I’ve got the break down part . . . OW! . . . but I’m having trouble with the ‘repair’ part.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll happen. It may take a couple of days . . .”

“A couple of days?! I’m going to be bedridden for a couple of days – and not for the preferred reason?”

“No, you can’t stay in bed – or at least not just lying still. For your muscles to repair, you’ve got to be stretching and flexing them as much as possible. My instructor recommended hours of fucking.”

“No, she didn’t . . . OUCH! Besides, how are you going to be able to fuck me when I’m in a body cast?”

“Casts are only for broken bones. I’m breaking down muscle tissue. There – I just worked open a knot. Doesn’t that feel good?”

“Quick question: Did you actually get a deep tissue massage before you decided to take a course on giving them?”

“Well, no. Not exactly. ‘Deep tissue’ just sounded hotter than the other options. Plus there were too many women in the Swedish massage class. I didn’t want to feel like a lesbian.”

“Oh, Brian . . . Goddamn it, that hurts! Why are you doing this to me? Are you still upset about Ethan because if you are, we can talk about it. There’s no need for corporal punishment . . . OW!”

“There was nothing to be upset about. I wasn’t upset.”

“OW! Maybe you repressed your pain, and it’s surfacing now that you have me at your complete mercy. OW!”

“You should know by now that I don’t repress my emotions."

“ . . . .”

“Everything I do and say is conscious, voluntary and deliberate, and all consequences have been foreseen and planned for.”

“I hope you realize that that does _not_ make me feel better about this situation. OW! What the hell happened to the whole ‘I don’t do birthdays’ thing? I thought that the only thing to celebrate are achievements.”

“We _are_ celebrating an achievement. I graduated with top marks and a professional certification in deep tissue massage. It was no small feat. Every evening and all day Saturdays for three weeks is a serious investment. Plus, I had to learn the anatomical details of the human muscular system, not to mention do repeated, monotonous and sometimes painful exercises to strengthen my forearms and fingers.”

“OW! Did you also learn how to make people scream in agony?”

“It’s not my fault you’re suffering – if you weren’t so tense, you’d be sighing with bliss right now.”

“But I’m _not_ tense! Or at least I wasn’t until you gave me the birthday present from hell. Was Beelzebub your instructor?”

“No, but close. His name was Larry.”

“OW! Larry? Aren’t Larries supposed to be cable guys? I never would’ve thought . . . OW! . . . that a guy named Larry would take an interest in advanced S&M practices.”

“Oh, ye of little imagination. C’mon. Didn’t you want a little romance? What’s more romantic than your partner learning how to give you a massage?”

“Romantic? OW! This is _not_ romantic!”

“What do you mean? You’ve always wanted me to touch you in non-sexual ways.”

“OW! Uhm, this was _not_ the kind of touching I had in mind.”

“Picky, picky . . . Relax. I’ve done your whole body. Now, I’m going to start again.”

“No, Brian, please . . . I’m serious! You’ve made your point! No birthdays! I surrender! You can stop torturing me now. No NO, STOP!! . . . uhm . . .”

“Still want me to stop?”

“Well, maybe not _just_ yet.”

“Ah, the coin’s dropped, I see. Feel good?”

“*sigh*”

“First you work out the knots. Once they’re gone, the massage feels great, doesn’t it?”

“Mmmmmm.”

“I’m pressing exactly as hard and in the same places that I had the first time. The only difference is that your muscles are no longer tight and knotted-up.”

“Mmmmm, I’m sorry, were you talking to me just now?”

“Never mind. I’ll explain it again later.”

“Oh, _Brian_ . . . this is heaven . . .”

“And you haven’t even had your ‘happy ending’ yet.”

“God, this feels so good.”

“Still wish I’d skipped your birthday?”

“Definitely not . . . I can’t believe you did this for me . . . it’s the . . .”

“It’s the what? The most romantic thing in the world? Better than flowers and chocolates and cheap, ugly rings?”

“ _Much_ better.”

“Does that mean you’ll be sticking around from now on?”

“I hope you know that you didn’t have to go through all this trouble to convince me to be with you.”

“Just covering all the bases. After all, I can’t play a violin . . . but I can play you.”

“This is much better than a violin . . . you can’t imagine how fucking _loud_ a violin is in a small apartment. I’m lucky to be alive given how pissed off the neighbors got.”

“Well, you _are_ alive.”

“And feeling even more so right now . . . *sigh* . . . Your touch is like magic.”

“You weren’t saying that fifteen minutes ago.”

“A lot can change in fifteen minutes.”

“No pain, no gain.”

“Never was the saying more true.”

“Better than cuddling?”

“Definitely better.”

“You do realize, though, that it’s going to hurt like fuck when I do it again next week.”

“It’s worth it. _You’re_ worth it.”

“Like I said: no pain, no gain. Now shut up and enjoy your birthday present.”

“ . . . . . . . . .”

“*smiles & whispers* _Finally_.”


End file.
